Harry Potter and the Torrid Affair with Ron
by Druantis
Summary: Do not read if you acctually take Harry Potter FF seriously. It is all one big joke. Probably not suitible for anyone exept me and my friends, as its chocoblock with weird injokes. But its fun and silly. Rated MA, with good reason. Review Please!
1. School , love and being cool with that

**A.N. This was made on "Writing day" with my friends. We spent the whole day writing a 'childrens book' (Witch turned out not so suitible for children) and this. I wrote about 95 of it, but there is a sentence here or there that isnt mine. The first couple of "chapters" were parts of the actual books, but tweaked to give them different meaning, but after that I just started writing crazy monkey. I know it doesnt make overly much sence, it isn't supposed to. It makes way more sence then the other book we wrote though. It is 100 parody and humour. **

**Full of sex and sexual references. Read on, but you have been warned; It is weird. **

**The morning after.**

"No!" said Harry and Ron together, avoiding each other's eyes. Hermione sighed exasperated, and laid down her soft feathery quill.

"Well obviously he is feeling very sad because of Cedric dying. And feeling Cedric while he was dying." She said, indicating towards Ron, but talking as though he was not in the room. "Then I expect he's feeling Cedric, because he liked Cedric, and now he likes Harry, and he cant work out who he likes best."

Suddenly Dobby the house-elf cracked into the room, eyes wide fearing fearfully. "Harry shall not go to Hogwarts!"

Hermione ignored him, and continued.

"Then he'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and he'll be worrying about what everyone might say about him if he starts going out with Harry…."

A stunned silence greeted the end of this rant, then Ron said, "But… I can't feel all that, I'll explode!"

Harry winked at him. "I'll make sure you 'explode'." He said suggestively. Ron turned an even deeper shade of red. "But I'm sorry Ron, about the other night… you didn't start it, then your crying all over me, I couldn't help myself! I didn't know what to do!"

"I don't blame you, love." Ron said affectionately, looking embarrassed at Harry's openness.

"You should have been nice to him!" said Hermione looking at Harry anxiously, and turned to Ron. "He was nice to you right?"

"Well…" Said Harry, an unpleasant heat creeping up his face, "I sort of … tied him up a bit, but I was nice, I was!"

Hermione looked like she was trying to restrain herself from throwing up with extreme difficulty.

Dobby jumped on the table, desperate to get their attention. "Harry must NOT go to Hogwarts!!!" He screeched loudly.

Hermione cracked up laughing, and punched them both on the shoulder.

"Nah, I'm just pulling your dicks, guys!" She giggled hysterically.

Harry and Ron glanced at each other, concerned.

"I think she's cracked mate." Ron said sadly.

**The sequel of no return. **

Hermione lay asleep in the hospital wing. The sun was lighting up her hair, making it shimmer and shine on the strong contrast of the white pillow.

Harry and Ron sat silently beside her. They glanced at each other and shared guilty looks. Ron was the first to speak.

"Who would have thought coming out would've driven her mad…" He said, giggling nervously. Once again Dobby appeared, and tried desperately to get their attention.

"Harry. Potter. Shall. Not. Go. To. Fucking. Hogwarts!" Once again, he went ignored.

"She's gonna be fine Ron…" Harry said, and stroked his freckled hand caringly. Ron leaned into his embrace and rested his head on Harry's strong shoulder.

"Wonder if she'll accept us sooner or later…" said Ron, looking sadly at Hermione's ridged face. "Because I guess we sorta sneaked up on her, no-one knew, we were so secretive…"

But Harry wasn't looking at Hermione's face. He was more interested in her right hand. It lay clenched on top of her blankets, and bending closer, he saw a piece of paper was clenched inside her fist.

Making sure their sleeping friend wouldn't wake up, he pointed this out to Ron.

"Try and get it out," Ron whispered, shifting shiftily in his chair.

It was no easy task. Hermione's hand was clasped so tightly around the paper that Harry was sure he was going to tear it. If it hadn't been for the strong sleeping draught keeping Hermione sedated, she would've woken up by now. While Ron watched anxiously as Harry tugged and twisted, and at last, after several minutes, the paper came free.

It was a page of school paper, which Hermione had been using as a makeshift diary the night before, while resting in the Hospital wing. Harry and Ron's eyes flicked over the neatly written lines, but for all of Hermione's neat writing, much of the writing was smudged with small teardrops.

_My life is over. My futile existence is a deep dark chasm of despair. The only bright thing in my small world, (other than my grades…) Ron, is in "love" with my best friend Harry! The two men in my life, the one I love, and the one I care about so deeply, are absorbed in their own little world. They kept this secret from me for too long! Okay, so they told me the night after, but still, they should've told me how they felt before then. I cant believe they don't trust me enough, I cant believe Ron doesn't love me, I cant believe they are gay! Stupid Faggots! Oh my god, now that fat cow "Madam" Pomphrey, is coming to drug me to sleep. I just want to go back to my dorm and maybe make out with Lavender. She's really hotteh! _

Harry glanced at Ron, whose plump lips were formed into a small "O", his round, blue eyes wide with shock.

"Hermione liked me?" He finally managed after stammering a few random syllables.

"Looked like…" Harry replied, and ran his hand through Ron's soft hair.

Fin… for now.

**An argument, and a reunion. **

"Harry shall not-," exclaimed Dobby as he appeared next to Harry and Ron in an intimate moment "Oh god my eyes, I give up!" said Dobby, who promptly disappeared.

"Was that…?" Harry said, starting, his slender nude body appearing even paler in the white moonlight streaming in from the window.

"Dobby? Yeah." Ron said, reclined against the pillows, tugging softly at Harry's shoulder, urging him back to bed.

Harry lay back next to him, blinking slowly, before rolling over and kissing Ron, his persistent (but not unwelcome) tongue pushing into his young lovers sweet mouth. His hand swept down Ron's body, and this author's attention was diverted to the curtains… hmm, silky. I wonder how much they cost...

In the bed on their right two boys sat, a scrabble board between them, but very little placed down.

"Are they going to stop soon?" Neville said, his voice shaking.

"I dunno… God I hope so!" Seamus replied, sounding equally disturbed.

Neville lay down a short word, gaining a triple word score. Seamus swore quietly, his swear matched in a loud gasp from the bed on their left.

Interlude- the next day Harry Ron and Hermione sat, bored out of their brains in History of Magic. Professor Binn's voice drawled on, repeating dates, times and events to the silently asleep class. Well, Hermione wasn't asleep, she was obediently taking notes. And Harry wasn't asleep, he was watching Ron's back heave, rising and falling with deep, sleepy breaths. But everyone else was asleep, and that's why they missed what happened next.

And so will you.

That weekend was abnormally warm. The sun shone down, and sweat was evaporating as fast as it could be produced. Most of the school was lazing lazily in the shallows of the lake. A small group of students (including Harry, Ron, Hermione and Harry's ex-girlfriend Cho Chang) were chilling, trying to cool down in a rather sunny part of the grounds.

"How 'bout a wet pants contest?" Fred Weasley suggested, sweeping his wand majestically. Suddenly boys and girls alike were dressed in thin tight white pants.

Ron laughed, eyeing Harry's gorgeous package.

"Not for me…" Harry objected modestly, using his wand to restore his pants to his casual Levis. And Ron was cool with that.

"Fine," Said George, Fred's identical twin. (Which you should now, coz I'm assuming you've read the books, and I mean if you haven't, why are you reading Fan-fiction. That's just sad. It's like watching a movie with audio commentary before you see the movie. Seriously, who does that?) "You don't have to participate if you don't want to. Here, conjure your names into this hat," He pulled his cap off his head, and held it forward. "Put your names in here, and I'll draw 3 names out. Those 3 people prepare to be soaked through!"

The fairly large crowd of students swept their wands, and a pile of names appeared in the hat. Ron entered, but Harry and Hermione were way too prudish.

George brandished the hat flamboyantly, and pulled the first name out.

"Professor Mcgonagall…? Okay, who put that in here?" A 2nd year with mousy hair snickered and raised his hand, and the Weasley twins rolled their eyes, and drew out another name.

"Parvati!" Fred shouted, waving his wand. The young girl was soon dressed in the dreadful white pants. Just the dreadful white pants. She walked forward, ready to be watered down.

"Hannah!" George called forward a large 1st year.

The so-called 'Hannah' waddled forward and stood, waiting for the dreaded white pants. Fred, covering his eyes, conjured the dreaded white pants onto the cellulite-covered legs of hers. The crowd moaned with one voice "Uuuuuuggggggggggggghhh!!!" Hannah wiggled her large butt coyly and winked to the disgusted crowd, seemingly oblivious to their repulsed expressions.

"Okay…" Fred said, recovering. "Last, but hopefully not least… Harry Potter!"

"I didn't enter!" Harry called up, not moving.

"I don't care! Get up here you big hunk of man-meat!" George called out, his voice layered with peer-pressure. Harry stumbled up, growing beetroot red. He looked into the group around him. He tried to catch eyes with Hermione to save him, but she was erupting in giggles as the 'pants' appeared on Harry's scrawny legs. He stared at Ron, who winked and smirked, mouthing, "HOT!" to his boyfriend.

As Harry raised his wand to return his jeans, a cold stream of water soaked through the horrid pants, making them transparent and clingy. He waved his wand, returning his jeans, and storming off before any serious embarrassment ensued.

Harry was sulking on his bed in the dormitory. He was pouting at the roof, his lower lip thrust forward pathetically. He heard the door open and close. He relaxed the pout, closing his eyes, and feigning sleep. He felt a weight at the end of the bed, and became aware of Ron crawling up to hold himself over his body. Ron's lips swept over Harry's un-responding mouth.

"What's wrong?" He inquired, his mouth still mere inches from Harry's.

"I can't believe you would embarrass me like that Ron." He replied flatly. It was clear that this betrayal meant more to him than Ron expected. Ron was confused, and didn't understand the pain Harry was feeling because of him. This was the first major hurdle in their relationship, and, despite the non-severity of the cause of the argument, it wasn't clear whether it was something they could just bounce back from.

"I'm sorry Harry." Ron said, with a slight shake in his voice as he slid off the bed and pulled on his dressing gown. "I'm going to see if Hermione's still in the common room. I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

As Harry felt, rather than heard the door slam shut, his stubborn façade crumbled, and he felt tears well up behind his green eyes, and felt the cool salty wetness flood over his supple pubescent cheeks.

"Hermione, I don't get why he's so fucking mad!" Ron sobbed, knobbly elbows resting on his knobbly knees, as his freckled hands cradled his damp face. His female friends hands caressed his shoulder blades in a futile attempt you comfort him. (And cop a feel.)

She sighed soothingly, and wrapped her arms full around him.

"Maybe you two just weren't meant to be…" She cooed into his ear, and as much as he hated the thought, he knew she may be right.

"Maybe." He admitted, burying his face into her shoulder. Well, he tried to bury his face into her shoulder, but at that moment she turned to face him, so his face more ended up in her breastal area.

"Hermione!" He screeched, pulling away sharply. She let her face drop, and looked up at him through her thick eyelashes.

"Sorry Ron." She mumbled, voice laced with wistful lost lust. "Well, I'm not sorry really. I know you saw my diary entry."

"Hermione, no. I saw it, I'm sorry; I don't feel that way about you!" She looked up and opened her mouth angrily, as if to speak. He cut her off. "I mean, you're pretty! Hell, you're beautiful! You're fucking stunning Herm! But I'm with Harry now. And I love him. And it may be over, but I still want to… Oh, what the hell!" He half sobbed, and he was kissing her.

Hermione looked back on that evening for a long time. His velvety tongue parting her lips, and dancing and swirling with her own. His calloused hands coasting up her smooth postured back, lifting her top over her head, messing up her curly hair. His long fingers fiddling with the clip of her bra, obviously not used to the mechanism, and why would he be? Harry didn't wear a bra, or at least, not that she knew of.

Him thrusting into her on the floor of the common room by the dying fire. Her screaming when she came, coating him with milky juices and spurring on his orgasm. And after. Him sitting guiltily up as he looked towards the dormitory where Harry was sleeping.

And her trying to urge him into a last kiss, but him not responding, tears once again spilling out of his eyes.

Luckily Ron and Hermione put this incident behind them, and blamed it on intoxication and depression. The only reason they couldnt remember any alcohol being involved, was they were far too drunk to remember a petty detail like that.

Henceforth, Harry never found out about the incident, and, due to his fluxuating hormone levels (resulting from his being a teenager), he promptly forgave Ron at breakfast the next morning.

Furthermore, the weather began to cool down, and there were no more impromtu wet pants contests for the rest of the year, so Harry was never again subjected to that type of embarrasment again. (Because this happened to be the year Lord Voldemort finally killed him)

The end.


	2. Christmas on a friday afternoon

**A.N. - As Christmas grows near I find myself getting reluctantly enthusiastic about the whole shidaggle. So, to get a little off my chest, I figured I'd write this short and tongue twisting chapter to my Harry Potter thingy. I'd call in Fan Fiction, but I'm not that bigger fan. I read the books, but J.K's writing style bores me somewhat. **

It was Christmas at Hogwarts, and as usual, the school was being decorated in random little Christmas related paraphernalia. It was beautiful in its own way, but also rather tacky; Like a department store at Christmas time. It's all very well and good to put tinsel on the underwear racks, but one more freaking verse of 'Tis the season to be Jolly" and I might have to 'Tis the season' the manager into next Halloween.

Harry and Ron were resting embraced in each others arms by the dormitory fire, trying to keep warm, which I personally can't quite fathom, as I live in Australia, and our Christmas-s-s are unbearably hot.

Harry raised his gaze from the fair fiery fire-like substance in the hearth to catch his lovers eyes as he leered down at him. Adjusting his glasses Harry asked,

"What would you like for Christmas?"

Ron shook his head, a scowl marring the beauty of his unique, but rather pleasant face.

"Christmas is a consumerist holiday, all but invented by the great people who practically rule our society: The company executives. Aside from this, It just celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ, and we're both atheist anyway. To truly want to participate in this holiday, we'd have to abandon our personal beliefs as if they were a disposable candy wrapper, and we might as well join the church right now and begin studies to become priests.

No instead, this year I think we should celebrate without the consumerism, and delight in each others company, rather than bow to an empire so great and powerful, that I'm truly amazed it's still selling crazy-frog-dancing toys."

Harry considered this for a moment and nodded, taking his point.

"That was very insightful Ron." He said, squeezing his hand.

At this moment Hermione bounded down the stairs from her sleeping quarters, bowel in hand and held it out. "Candy cane?" She asked, a giddy grin growing on the glowing on her girlishly gorgeous features.

"Yeah thanks." Ron said, accepting one.


	3. Hermione is a manipulative bitch, part1

**A.N (As I enjoy to write.) This chapter is best read aloud, in a serious, yet quiet and contemplat-y (Not a word, I know, expect more of it.) voice. Also, not very long, setting the scene. **

The Burrow was warm that Christmas Eve, the smell of slaughtered animals roasting in the oven, and the heavy scent dripping from the air, of Christmas pudding. The sounds of the Weasly siblings (And Hermione…) in the yard playing some game or other. The taste still buried in everyone's mouths, residual from lunch, of cool potato salad and warm crisp turkey slices. All these elements washed over Harry and Ron as they lay spooned on the couch, Ron's arm slung gracefully over the other boy's hip, as they watched the Blackadder Christmas special. The warm warmth, comforting comfort and loving love were making Harry feel safe for the first time in his life.

Of course, this wouldn't last long, as something was due to happen, this being a story, and hopefully a vaguely interesting one at that.

Hermione sauntered into the living room, eyeing the boys intimate position with mixed envy and disgust. She sat down on the opposite chair, and turned her attention to the blaring television, attempting to form yet another plan to split them up. She chewed on the tip of her thumb as she pretended to be interested in the plot unfurling upon the screen.

That evening she watched as Harry and Ron kissed good night, and parted to their separate rooms. Since they had gotten together, Mr and Mrs Weasly had insisted they sleep in different rooms, to prevent… interlocking.

As a result of this, Harry was now sleeping in the same room as Hermione, given he wasn't a threat to her feminine virtue. He neglected to point out to anyone he wasn't in fact gay, he was bisexual. Instead he took this opportunity to enjoy watching her dress and ahem undress, while everyone else in the house was none the wiser.

Hermione, once changed into her yummy sushi pyjamas, sat on the edge of Harry's bed and put her hand gently on his leg.

"Harry," She said softly, putting the perfect touch of quiver into her tone, "I have something I think I should tell you…"

Hermione can be a manipulative bitch sometimes.

Later that evening, when the sun was completely down, and everyone was asleep, (Except for Harry, so disturbed was he.) Hermione crept down the stairs to the living room, picking up the cordless phone and taking it outside. She pulled out her mobile phone, and, after making a quick "kiss kiss" face into the camera, she looked up Draco Malfoy's number.

Draco heard the phone ring, and pulled himself out of bed, groaning. Always vain, as he climbed out of bed he slicked back his pale hair with his fingers, put on his best 'cock and swagger' walk, and light up a cigarette as he went to pick up the phone, his old leather duster billowing behind hi- oops, sorry, drifted into Buffy fan fiction then.

We'll go from cock and swagger?

Put on his best 'cock and swagger' walk as he went to pick up the phone. Lifting the receiver to his ear he drawled,

"Hello?"

"Hey Malfoy! Its Hermione."

He grimaced as her pitched tones attacked his ear like a thousand blades.

"What do you want?" He asked, making his tone as dulcet as possible, hoping to alert her to the fact that she sounded like a squirrel addicted to helium. She continued speaking in her own… unique way, and Malfoy began to fondle a fork, seriously considering stabbing his own brains out. After a few reluctant pleasantries were partaken upon, received and dealt out from both sides, Hermione finally got down to the grit of the late night matter.

"How would you like to hurt Harry and Ron?"

Draco leant back against the chaise lounge, a slow smirk morphing onto his face.

"Now I'm listening." He replied, chuckling, and laying down the pronged eating utensil. His

long standing jealously against the Potter boy, (As jealously it obviously twas) was good enough reason to keep his brains intact, for the time being at least.

**Okay, I was bored: **

**http://img72.imageshack.us/my.php?imagethemorningafterdo6.jpg **


	4. Interlude Harry forgets stuff

If you haven't already guessed, the secret Hermione revealed to Harry, was the truth of the night she had Ron had spent together. That hot, sweaty, thoroughly enjoyable night. Maybe I should hook them up again? Anyway, I, as the all powerful author, and possible maniac, am going to COMPLETELY break plot for a moment. Lets just pretend for a few moments that Harry forgot what Hermione said, yes?

I'm sorry about this, readers, but I've been feeling this story has been gaining a blasphemous abundance of plot. And after my rather fastidious friend read this, she pointed out I was abandoning my original intentions, and actually kind of writing a story. And, despite her impertinence, I had to admit she was right. So, I'm going to do the absurd now, and add…

A short story where Harry has sex with Ron!

Harry crept across the corridor to his lovers quarters. Despite his talk with Hermione (Which he has conveniently forgotten, because he… uh…. Has short term memory loss due to… lack of sleep... And sex. ) He had on overwhelming urge to see Ron, and Ron Jr, Thus he was tempted thither. (I've been reading Pride and Prejudice, can you tell?)

He turned his hand on the smooth cool door handle, and the mechanism cause the wedge shaped bolt in the door to retract into the handle, allowing Harry to push or pull the door open, depending on which side the hinges were positioned on.

Harry pushed the door open. (The hinges could be located on the within) And went in, quietly closing the door behind him.

Ron began to stir, and smiled lovingly up at Harry. And thus, Harry was pleased with how successful his rather simple contrivance seemed to be turning out to…be.

Ron extended his hand, and Harry took it and squoze. He crouched down and softly kissed Ron's lips.

Ron pulled his other arm from beneath him, and, after shaking out the pins and needles, ran it down the back of Harry's neck. Harry pulled himself onto the bed next to Ron, and snuggled as close to him as he possibly could. Ron stopped kissing and looked at Harry, concern, um, dripping from his eyes.

"We can't Harry." He said, "My parents…"

Harry bit his lip. "No, I guess your right. It would feel weird too, doing it here."

Ron nodded.

"Well…"

Sorry guys, I know I promised sex. But it seems Ron has brought up a very good point. I don't really want to write them doing it just above Mr and Mrs Weasley's bedroom. It's kind of gross. Looks like I'm going to have to write them studying the mechanism of the door. Damn.

Harry stood up, and Ron propped himself up on his elbows.

"Well then, do you want to have a look at the mechanism of the door?" He asked Harry.

Harry shook his head. "I studied it on my way in. Turning the handle causes a wedge shaped bolt to retract into the door, allowing you to push or pull the door open, depending on which side the hinges are on."

Ron thought for a moment. "We could find out which side the hinges were on." He suggested. Once again Harry shook his head.

"The inside, I pushed."

"Oh." Ron said. The pair stood quietly for a few moments. Harry fidgeted nervously.

After about 23 seconds Ron stood up, and walked over to Harry. He grabbed him around the neck, and slammed their lips together. Harry tugged Ron closer to him, and groped him butt, while feeling Ron's absolutely MASSIVE length rise and press into his thigh. I mean, seriously, this thing is freaking huge. Its like an anaconda, no kidding. He has to do a spell on his underwear to be able to hold this thing subtly. It's a special case with the Ministry of Magic. Poor Ron has a severe case of the magical condition; "OHMYFUCKINGGOD!-Did-you-see-that-kid?-His-dick-was-like-this!-(The-person-attempts-to-spread-their-arms-so-impossibly-far-apart-that-they-both-fall-off,-and-the-person-is-left-like-the-Monty-Python-black-night-in-the-first-half-of-the-scene)-itis."

Where was I?

Harry pushes Ron onto the bed, and holds himself over him, smiling as he looks into his lovers eyes for a few moments before descending and kissing his lips, neck, collar-bone, chest, stomach, abdomen, and…

Later that night! Harry lay down contentedly next to Ron, a contented smile spreading across his contented face. Ron was also contented, and they were both spent and happy. Ron pulled Harry into his arms, and stroked his hair as the dark haired boy began to drift off into the land of nod. Ron interrupted this, by asking.

"Hey, what was Hermione talking to you about earlier?"

This jogged Harry's memory, and his head shot straight up off the freckled chest it was rested on. He jumped off the bed, and even as he walked over to the door and pulled it (because he was exiting the room rather than entering it.) tears began to fall down his cheeks.

"Damn that short term memory loss." He muttered. "And damn Ron! And Damn Freddie Prince Jr!! Not because he's a terrible actor, but because he had the nerve to marry Sarah Michelle Geller! SHE DESERVES BETTER!"

Draco leant back from the bowl in which he was magically watching Harry, smirking. He leant over to Hermione, who was magically next to him, and magically kissed her. They both began to laugh, as they heard the echoic sound of Harry's sobs from the bowl.

See, I even got some plot development in there!


	5. Ugh, plot CHICKEN FIGHT!

Breakfast at the Weasly household was an uncomfortable affair, imputed to the rather devastating events of the prior nights. Harry and Ron both sat at the end of the table, in an unsuccessful attempt to appear dominating. It goes without saying (although I'll say it anyway…) that neither boy were, in point of fact, particularly dominating people. In fact, they both happened to be rather pansy-assy. Thus, they family allowed them the one small pleasure of having the two most powerful seats at the dining table.

Today though, this happened to be rather inconvenient. Well, inconvenient is an understatement. 'Horribly, terribly uncomfortable, and depressing and truly heartbreaking and live-journal worthy' would be more accurate.

I'll save you the Horrible, terrible, uncomfortable, depressing, heartbreaking details, and list the key events of the meal.

1. Harry descends the stairs, and takes his usual seat.

2. Ron descends the same stairs and takes HIS usual seat.

3. Both boys try and avoid eye contact.

4. Harry gives Ron a nasty glare.

5. Ron breaks down into wild sobs, and attempts to drown himself in his weetabix.

6. Harry, seeing the distress he has caused, and feeling the dark void of horrible, terrible, uncomfortable, depressing, heartbreaking pain within himself, tries to stab himself with a butter knife.

7. Once Mr and Mrs Weasly have healed both of them, Harry runs outside to the chicken coup, yelling, "Oh Mighty chickens! Peck me and feed thine selves on my lost and pained corpse! I do not wish to live anymore!"

8. Ron, uncomfortable, and feeling guilty by this gesture, runs outside, lifting the ravenous chickens off Harry's now not-very-torn and bleeding body, and after a brief moment of eye contact, in which they both saw the souls of the person they loved, Ron plunges the chickens beak into his chest, now enveloped by both guilty and physical pain.

9. Harry curses the fowl away, and realises that he and Ron should talk out their issues, rather then trying to end them by way of suicide-by-chicken.

10. Harry tells Ron that they should talk out their issues, rather then try and end them by way of suicide-by-chicken.

11. Ron agrees.

Now, it may not seem as though I have spared many heartbreaking details, but you should just be glad I didn't write about the gumboot incident.

Onward!

"Harry, I was hurting that night." Ron sais, facing the misty moisty window, arms folded in front of him.

Harry nodded, despite knowing Ron can't see him.

"I know you were. But, so was I. It may seem insignificant now, but that wet pants incident really upset me."

"I'm sorry." Ron replied sotto voce "I figured it was all fun and games to you, as well."

"I understand. But why Hermione?"

Ron heaved a sigh.

"I don't know. She was there. She was practically forcing herself on me. I, I didn't really know what to do."

"Okay. I think it would be best if we put this all behind us." Harry said. "If I can have one night alone with Ginny."

Ron's head whipped around, disgusted. Realizing Harry was joking, he started to laugh. Harry shook his head.

"I'm serious Ron." He said. "I wont forgive you until I shag your sister."

"Oh."

Later that evening, Harry peeled himself of Ginny's sweaty body, where she lay, catching her breath. They caught each others eyes.

"Thanks." Harry said. Ginny smiled.

"No problem."

"I better be getting back to Ron."

A few minutes later, Harry strode back into Ron's room, buckling his pants.

"Okay, now we're even Stevens." He said. Ron grinned and stood to kiss him, the two made out for several minutes, and proceeded to make steamy sweaty love, because Harry's a stallion, oh yeah.

"Hm." Draco mused, "I didn't think they would make up so quickly…"

Hermione shrugged, and straddled him, licking and sucking at his neck. She whispered. "Doesn't matter… We still have our secret weapon."

Draco grinned and flipped her over on the bed, pinning her arms, and diving down to crush her lips.

"I love it when you whisper…" He said quietly, "I don't have to listen to your squirrel voice."

She pouted playfully. "Stupid slytherin. Don't be mean."

He pulled back and squatted next to the bed, spreading her legs.

"Ill make it up to you?"

"Oh yes…" She moaned.

Everything was going according to plan.

**A/N. Oh, so sorry for this smulchy and plot based chapter. I just had to clear that frickin air. Next chapter will be better, I promise. **

**REVIEW!**


	6. Chapter 6

-1**A/N. For months now, I've been thinking, "How can I finish this damn thing in a way that makes sense?!"**

**Then I realised! It doesn't HAVE to make sense. It never made sense before, why start now?**

**I feel so at peace. Time for my most insane fiction to die. It feels bad letting go, but I know I must. Be strong. Ready? It's the beginning of the end. For real this time. **

When we last left of, we didn't know what Hermione and Draco's plan was. We knew it was aimed to hurt Harry and Ron, and hurt it shall.

In a world where magic reigns, magic reins in all kind of trouble. In this case, the trouble takes the form of magic rained down upon Hermione's … Lets keep it a surprise huh?

It was a cold and rainy day. Rainy in oh so many ways, but enough of that, right?

Most of the school was indoors, keeping out of the harsh punishment nature was throwing at their poor defenceless supple bodies.

Not Harry. He was training on the Quidditch Pitch, and the wind was buffering him in many ways. But I shant speak of such things, because that Rowling woman has used that a few too many times before me. I could just go steal a passage from one of her books, and none of you would even notice, I bet.

Ron was indoors, in the warm common room, basking in the heat wafting from the fire. Hermione was there as well, and he still was not aware of her dastardly treachery. For now.

She stretched like a cat, and sucked the end of her quill.

"I'm tired." She commented. "But I'd quite like to see Harry after practise. Would you mind if I rested in your room?"

Ron shook his head, and stood to follow her as she ascended the stairs. Truth be told, he was quite exhausted as well. From school. And the sex he was partaking upon with his newly not angry boyfriend.

When they reached the room, and the door was shut, Hermione spun round with her best sultry look on.

It wasn't that great, but it did the job on Ron.

She tugged her shirt over her head, revealing her pert breasts. Ron made no move towards her, nor away, but a small thread of lusty drool hung from the corner of his lip.

She wriggled out of her skirt, and toyed with her sexy panties teasingly, before ripping them off.

She lay back on the bed, and spread her legs invitingly.

That was when the spell kicked in, and all hell broke loose.

Ron stared in abject horror at her rapidly expanding vagina. It stretched and widened into a perfect, but horrific circle, jagged teeth protruding from the edges, poison dripping really, really grossly. It howled like and abyss, and closed itself around Ron's petrified head, shoulders, torso, legs, dead.

He screamed as he died, not just in agony, but also in "HOLY FREAKING FUCK! WHAT IS THAT FUCKING THING?"

In answer, it was Hermione's vagina monster that Draco had cast upon her.

Just when their victory was in sight, she got indigestion and died.

Days later, ridden with angst, Harry was crying in a tree, when Voldemort approached, and hissed,

"Stand and fight, Potter."

Harry jumped from the tree, and welcomed death.

All looked grim for the world, as Voldemort finally emerged victorious. But, luckily, Spike from my BtVS fanfics jumped into this fandom and killed Voldemort with a well aimed awesome smirk. Then he popped back home and had nonsensical sex with Buffy.

See, its even a happy ending.

Sort of.


End file.
